


Running With It

by StrikeLikeACobraKai



Series: Working Up a Sweat [2]
Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: 1987ish, At least Bobby knows he's thirsty now, Bisexuality, Bobby gets determined, Bodily Fluids, Filthy, Friends With Benefits, Frotting, Hand Jobs, It's getting filthy again, It's only gonna get worse tbh, Just wait for the next instalment, M/M, No internalised biphobia in this series, OR IS IT, POV Bobby, POV First Person, PWP, Public Hand Jobs, Running, Running Shirtlessly as Foreplay, Sweat, exercise, working out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27629288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikeLikeACobraKai/pseuds/StrikeLikeACobraKai
Summary: c. 1987.Johnny and Bobby keep up their exercise kick. But there hasn’t been a single repeat of what happened in the showers at the gym, and Bobby is starting to get a bit desperate.One day, after a run with Johnny, he decides to do something about it.(Inspired by every shirtless pic/gif from TKK, and in particular the shorts and lack of shirts at soccer tryouts)
Relationships: Bobby Brown/Johnny Lawrence, Dutch/Johnny Lawrence (mentioned)
Series: Working Up a Sweat [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018029
Comments: 32
Kudos: 27





	Running With It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KingKarate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingKarate/gifts).



> Hey, hey. Welcome back to any beautiful degenerates reading this ~  
> Thank you SO MUCH to my commenters and readers in this series so far! You’ve inspired me to make this wayyy dirtier as we go, so good for you :)
> 
> Make sure you didn’t miss Part 1: Pumping Iron (REALLY. Really do read it before this one… it will make it better, I promise. Up to you though. *shrugs* )
> 
> This one’s shorter. I think the instalment lengths will be chaotic neutral. For instance, Part 3 is 7.3k ^^)
> 
> So there’s that. ENJOY. Please let me know if this still works for you XD

The next few times I see Johnny, he doesn’t touch me as much as usual, doesn’t put his arm around me like he’s been doing for years. Doesn’t do anything at _all_ , although he’s not weird to me in any other way.

He doesn’t bring up what we did, so neither do I.

Even though I kinda want to, just to test out, get it clear that we _are_ going to do that again, sometime, right? But it’s too new and different for me to say anything; I really can’t work out how, but I am working up my nerve, cos I gotta know. That can’t just be a one time thing.

On the third time I see Johnny, he starts up the physical contact again, just his normal kind, and I really don’t quite get it. And then it builds from there, one day at the gym, and it’s pretty much more than it was on that first day, since he knows he doesn’t have to hide what he’s thinking about from me. He pats my back, my leg, even moves me physically at one point, out of his way, with his hands on my biceps, instead of just asking me to move, like a normal person.

When we’re switching over at the bench, I make a show of looking at his shorts from down by his feet, and I’m surprised how much up his thighs you can actually see. But nothing happens that day, whether it’s because the shower’s a little busy, or what, I don’t know.

It’s hard to swallow.

It’s not like I expect we _have_ to do it, just because we did it, once… but… I mean, c’mon.

When we go for a run together, I’m starting to need it to happen again, like really _need_ it.

We’re pretty into running, me and Johnny. Once I hit just under a mile, which I gotta work for with my breath to keep up a good pace, it’s like I break a line that means I can pretty much go forever after that, like with no effort. Five miles, twenty, it doesn’t matter, whatever speed I want, once the right chemicals have kicked in.

There’s always been something really incredible about running, but even more with Johnny next to me, both of us pounding the pavement. The sound of his breaths in, lasting five or six steps, out for every five or six steps, the movement of his arms, every swing a carbon copy of the last one, like he’s a machine by my side, steady, dependable, both of us unstoppable.

Of course, today there’s something more loaded in it, for me.

We always start out with our shirts on, usually a tank, but then take them off to stay cool at some point, and put them around our necks, or tuck them in the back of our shorts.

Today, when Johnny does that, I can’t really help that that becomes all I can think of from then on, of him running next to me in just shorts, even though I’m not looking at him. Doesn’t stop me seeing it in my mind’s eye, seeing something I want, and intend to get.

At the end of our run, it’s early evening, when the sky’s only just let go of the sun. It’s still pale light, and Johnny and I slow down at a drinking fountain, in a park not far from home for both of us.

I take a long drink of cool water, and use some of it on my face, thinking of how much sweat Johnny has running down him, and suddenly completely understanding that thing he did on the bench that day, when he stopped me from wiping it down, like a lightbulb in my head.

If there was a way for me to do that right now, I would. Hell, I’d pay _money_ to.

Now Johnny’s drinking with his eyes closed, and I’m watching his throat swallow, looking at that shine all over his back, his ribs, his upper body, and thinking about touching it, whether I’d be allowed to.

I’m getting a real good look at the picture that’s been playing in my mind for the last twenty minutes, and it’s turning me on, of course. There’s no way it couldn’t.

I put my foot up on the bench by the fountain, waiting for him to finish, resting my arm on my knee.

Johnny’s wet his hair and pushed it back out of his flushed face, and I see him look firstly at my legs, then up my chest, taking his time.

I make sure to keep staring, so that when he looks me in the eyes, he knows what I want.

I see a smile play on his lips, while his glance checks out whether there’s anyone else nearby. It’s late enough that the occasional walkers give each other a wide berth, and nobody will really be close enough to notice Johnny stepping up to me, in the space between my legs.

“You need something?”

“I sure do.”

I drop my eyes down to his body, and then back up, in case I need to be clearer.

He looks cocky. “Back for more, huh?”

I shrug, feeling myself harden, because I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be happening, thank _fuck._

“What you want, Bobby?” he murmurs, probably knowing that the sound of his voice, the way he’s saying that, sends a throb through me.

“You want me to say it?”

His eyes will not leave mine. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Johnny’s using his height to try to intimidate me, I can tell, the way he’s crowding in.

I raise my eyebrows and straighten up, closer to matching him. “See those trees over there?”

He looks to my left, his right, and nods.

“I’ll tell you when you get there.”

I give him one last look, and start walking away, sure that he’ll follow me, although I’m thinking about whether he’s gonna be able to handle me being more confident this time, going after what I want, rather than like the first time, when he was in charge.

I guess I’m gonna find out.

There’s a dozen sycamore trees; it’ll be enough. It’ll be dark soon, the streetlights are already starting to come on and there’s hardly anyone out still.

I find a tree in the back, with a pretty straight trunk to lean against, and wait for Johnny. He’s taking his sweet fucking time: he’s pulled his shirt around his neck, and looped his thumbs into each side, so his elbows are bent up as he walks, pretty much struts to me, like he can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants to.

He’s under the cover of the trees, and then he’s with me, and he lets go of his shirt. He doesn’t hesitate to put his arm up next to me again, like last time, resting on the trunk, and he smells hot, vital, alive, and there’s still just so much sweat on him it makes my eyes water.

He smirks, and for a second I think he’s looking at my lips, but then it’s back up on me.

“You were saying?”

“Well, there’s two things,” I say, not flinching from his gaze. “One is easy. I want your hand.”

I can tell by the flash in Johnny’s eyes: he _likes_ my attitude today. He’s not gonna let me know, but there’s way too much want there, for him not to be enjoying it.

“Oh?” he says in that low voice. “And what you want me to do with my hand, Bobby?”

I’m not in the mood for waiting any longer for at least a touch, so I take his wrist and bring his free hand against me. Right away he feels over me, finds the shape of me, feeling how hard I am, and he smiles arrogantly.

He fits his fingers properly around me and gives me a hard stroke, like I need, and I sigh in satisfaction.

“You want me to do this?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles with heat in his eyes. “And the other thing?”

I reach out to cup him through his shorts, a thrill going up me when I feel that he already has an erection.

“I want this.” I squeeze in with my thumb, running along his length, trapped inside there.

There’s something powerful in the way Johnny’s staring at me, like he’s hot for me wanting this enough to come out and ask for it, but that he’s still planning to call the shots, and I’d better realise that.

“There’s no shower this time,” he warns, and I feel his dick move in my hand, getting fully hard.

“I don’t care, if you don’t.”

That he’s already making reference to the fact both of us are going to get off, that there’s no doubt of it happening, _soon_ , and that it’s going to make a mess, sends scorching heat up me, and I push into his grip.

“What are you waiting for, then?” he asks.

He’s still holding me, just holding me and not moving his fingers at all, but even that feels good.

I smile smugly as I reach into his shorts, finding my way inside the warmth in his briefs, pushing those down, pushing all of it down, far enough to free him so that I have him in my hand.

It’s that silky skin, hard and thick and hot again, and I can’t decide why the hell it feels so good to hold his dick, but it just does.

I watch as Johnny’s eyes close, as he sighs a long breath, when I start to jerk him off, and I look over the sweat that has come back to his face, the lingering effect of our run.

I reach out to rest my other hand at his waist, just lightly, but at least I can touch his hard body, my fingers resting on the slick skin, his heat radiating under my hand.

I’m not starting real fast, but stroking in a long, drawn-out rhythm, with plenty of pressure, and Johnny sighs deeply into it.

He leans his weight on his arm and pulls the front of my shorts down. As he looks down at my dick, smiles, and curls his hand around me, a few damp strands of his hair fall over his eyes. The grip comes good and tight, and Johnny moves in closer to me.

When he glances up, we stare at each other for a few seconds, but it’s too much, too intense for me, so I look down, needing to watch what we’re doing to each other. He’s different to me: a little, just a little, thicker than me, I can admit it, and his skin is a shade paler there than mine, and he’s cut. All these things tell me constantly, and it’s sexy as _fuck_ , that I know it’s not me I’m holding. I wish I could see better, but the light is fading.

I bite my lip, watching his hand again, feeling unbelievably good on me, stroking me on an angle upwards, towards his stomach. I’m already breathing pretty erratically, and my hips are desperate to just push hard into him.

“You can’t get enough,” Johnny taunts me in a whisper.

“And like you’d be happy… if I stop doing _this?”_ I look up at him again, picking up my pace and seeing how much he needs this, how locked in to this we are together.

Johnny’s mouth falls open on a ragged breath, and I tighten my fingers even more. I love that low sound that he can’t help but give, when I do that.

“You better _not_ fucking stop… that’s _good_ …”

His eyes are starting to get that look, the look that things are building for him. I know the feeling. I’m getting that amazing ache, that itch that comes, as things start to gather together, and Johnny just knows exactly how to do me properly.

Sometimes our hands touch, and a few times more than our hands, but it’s so brief that I don’t have time to feel what it’s like, see whether I like it.

Johnny’s breathing out in a rhythm which climbs in pace, and I can’t get enough of listening to it speed up in response to my touch, love watching the slide of him through my fingers. Then he lifts his head, flicks his hair out of his eyes and stares at me urgently.

“Take your hand away,” he says in a tense voice, impatient with need. “Wanna show you something…”

I obey, a little confused, and then _very_ confused, because he steps closer, like right up to me against the tree, and takes both of us in his one hand, curling his fingers around us together, and holy fuck, why didn’t _I_ think of that?

He starts to stroke again, which feels insanely good, and then I realise that my dick is touching his, our balls are touching, _everything_ is touching, and I wonder if that should be weird, but it really, really isn’t, because it’s unreal; it’s fucking _amazing._

It’s kinda like he’s pushing us together with how strong he’s gripping, and I bite back a moan, thinking about how much of our skin is on each other, watching his hand.

“Good?” he asks.

“Fucking _hell_ … keep doing that…”

He smiles, and soon there’s his own throaty moan, out through his wet parted lips, while his fierce stare watches my mouth, and my god, it’s really not going to take long for me. I need to _come._

I put my free hand on his other hip, still not doing anything other than resting there, but it feels good, feels like I need to touch him while we do this.

Then my thumbs find the row of his obliques on each side of his body and just trace them slightly, because they are still slick, and hard as hell, and feel like pure magic.

Johnny starts to verbalise more, and there’s this strain in his face as he looks down at where he’s holding us, like his eyes are glued to us, and my tightness draws in hard.

I breathe out harshly, “Oh _fuck…_ ” and then I feel the first twitch. I start to gush all over his fingers, and it’s running back down onto _him_ , over his swollen head, and I’m cursing, feeling like I'm on fire when I see that. It’s only another second before Johnny comes, groaning out his release, and oh my _god_ , I don’t even know how to handle how hot this looks and feels. My mind is leaving my body as I throb, trying to watch everything that’s happening in between us before it’s all over.

My hand flies up to wrap around his fingers; I _have_ to, I need to feel it there, as the last tremors finish, and he’s slowed what he’s doing just enough to take us through it, slippery, messy, just impossibly fucking sexy.

I’m in disbelief as I touch, thinking about how that’s _both_ of us there, that I just got off with a guy again, with Johnny, and just like the first time, the intensity was enough to blow my fucking mind.

We’re done. So I let go, and from his waist, too, and Johnny drops his hand, and we come apart, the warm skin along the front of my body feeling suddenly cool when it’s exposed to air.

Johnny lifts off the tree, and pulls his shirt down from his neck. He uses it to wipe off his abs, where some of our come made it up onto him, and cleans his hand, so I figure I may as well do the same with my tank, too.

Once we’ve both pulled our shorts back up, we share a smile about this: the dirtiest, hottest thing I can imagine, and I think by now I’m realising that it’s good because it feels forbidden because no one knows we do it, and it’s even better because Johnny is as sexy as all _fuck,_ and I can admit that to myself, I think.

While Johnny’s wiping his hand again, finishing cleaning up, I say, “You’ve done this before.”

His features are partly in shadow now, with the evening, and he hasn’t backed all the way out of my space yet.

“Yeah.”

“How often?”

Johnny shrugs one shoulder a little, as if we’re discussing something casual. “When I feel like it.”

I move my jaw and decide to say it. “How long’s it been since you did it with Dutch?”

Johnny freezes for a second. He gives me just the briefest possible glance, and it’s like he’s surprised I worked that out, maybe that he didn’t necessarily want me to, I’m not sure.

And then he finishes tucking his shirt back into his shorts. “A while.”

I want to ask how long a while is, but I’m smart enough to know that Johnny doesn’t want me to.

**Author's Note:**

> Announcement: One of the tags from Part 3 is “Watching Top Gun together as foreplay”


End file.
